


Lay Bare Your Arms

by LacePendragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Depression, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, post v7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: In the prison cells of Atlas, Qrow is visited by James. James is not the man he was when Qrow first arrived in Atlas. But neither is Qrow.It's over, even if James won't accept losing to Salem. It's over, and all that's left is to wait for the end.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 23
Kudos: 88





	Lay Bare Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> So this is entirely a group chat's fault. Entirely. I wrote it in one sitting and it made me very sad. But it's also an idea I've wanted to play with for a while. Post-V7 Ironqrow fascinates me.
> 
> Uhhh... enjoy?

The prison cell was more than he deserved. Qrow sat upon the metal bench, his head in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees. They’d taken his weapon, his Scroll, his shoes. The floor was cold beneath his feet. His stomach churned and he refused to close his eyes, instead staring at the tile floor. In his immediate vision, there were four hundred and twelve squares in the tiles. Basic math told him he was probably looking at what, a tenth or a twelfth of the tiles? Something like that. The numbers were easier than his emotions.

The numbers were easier than the images behind his eyes.

Gold turning purple, the gleam of metal, blood. So much blood. Qrow put a hand over his mouth to force back vomit before it could roll up his throat and consume him.

_Good luck._

Qrow let out a broken sob and curled himself into a ball upon the bench, his eyes pressed so tightly to his knees that he saw red. The metal was cold beneath his damp socks.

He missed his shoes.

_Good luck._

The words echoed in his head, a mockery of what they’d been only hours before, in life. Gods, Brothers, had it really only been one day that all this had happened in? The election celebration, the jury of council members with James, the Grimm attack, Tyrian. Watts. All of it.

It was all too fucking much for one day.

Qrow just wanted it all to stop. There was blood on his hands that wasn’t all his. Dried blood on his clothes that made him sick to his stomach.

Blood in his mind that would never fade.

And now he was sitting in a prison cell he deserved but couldn’t believe he was in.

It was all _shit._

A clanging noise pushed Qrow from his thoughts. He glanced up, head still down, in time to see shadows beyond the tiny window in the cell door.

A moment later, the cell door opened and in walked his saviour and his captor, James. Qrow lifted his head only enough to glower at him. The door slammed behind James, leaving them alone.

Qrow took a brief second to look him over. His left arm was in a sling, bandaged. Qrow had heard whispers on his way in. Saw Watts in another cell. The fight hadn’t gone as well as James had hoped, then. But then, what _was_ going well, tonight?

Salem was coming. People were dying. Fuck, they were _all_ going to die.

“Where is the Vale relic?” asked James, lifting his chin. “Where are your nieces? Where is the _lamp_?” His voice came out as a hiss.

“You look like shit,” said Qrow. Hard to believe that only days ago, James had been holding him in those arms. Kissing him with those lips that now spat poison.

James narrowed his eyes. They were bloodshot, those eyes. Once a beautiful blue that was now shadowed with hatred and fear. Bruise-like bags pressed beneath them, almost black by the shade of their purple. Hell, maybe they were bruises. Maybe Watts had gotten a few good hits in.

Even as Qrow studied James, met his gaze and held it, he catalogued James’ words. The kids had gotten away with the lamp. Good. At least they were still safe. Free of him and free of the burden of Atlas’ weight.

“The lamp, Qrow,” said James.

“What makes you think I know where it is?” said Qrow. “You took my fuckin’ Scroll, look through the logs, _General_.” The barest twitch of James’ mouth. The barest flutter of his eyes as they widened a fraction of a fraction of an inch. “You’ll be able to know exactly who I was calling and texting.”

“We did,” said James, voice flat beyond the slight twinge of frustration. “You must have spoken in code or communicated before you left.”

Qrow sat up straight, draping his arms over his raised legs. “You took my shoes.”

“You killed Clover.” Qrow didn’t flinch, but it was close. His fingers twitched and his jaw clenched behind closed lips. A headache pulsed behind his eyes. Leftover from crying, from fighting, and returning with a vengeance. Qrow refused to cry again in front of this man who was no longer his.

Qrow sighed. For the first time since James had walked into the room, Qrow broke his gaze. He stared at his hands – chapped, bloody, ragged. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

“Why?” Spoken with a clenched jaw and barely contained rage.

Qrow snorted and lifted one hand, waving it around in a blasé manner solely because he knew it would piss off James. “Oh, I dunno, General, maybe I was just mad that he got more of your attention than I did.” Qrow looked up at James and grinned, all teeth, all animal. “Maybe I was sick of the competition.” He spat the words and James did twitch at them.

James took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled as a growl. “Of course you’re _joking_ about murder.” He shook his head, visibly working his jaw. “I should have known one of Ozpin’s spies would be so willing to kill an ally for a supposed edge.”

Qrow ground his teeth. “One of—”

But he was stopped short by James slamming his metal fist, open-palmed, into the wall above Qrow’s head. Qrow sucked in a sharp breath through his nose to keep himself from moving. He met James’ dark gaze head-on, defiant, glaring.

“I know you’re lying to me! Ozpin kept so many fucking secrets. You have to know some of them. They never trusted me. None of you ever trusted me no matter _what_ I did for you,” said James. The wildness in his eyes had Qrow’s chest seizing. But his words were still crazy.

“You’ve lost it, you know that?” Qrow let out a sharp, bitter noise. “You used to _be_ one of _us._ You used to be one of the good guys. What are you now, General? What’s left of the man inside the machine?”

James snarled and grabbed Qrow by the front of his fancy shirt, ripping it as he hauled Qrow up the wall and pinned him there. The metal fist was cold against his bare skin. Everything was so fucking cold. Everything but his head.

“Don’t you talk to me like that,” snarled James. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed to fight her. What I won’t sacrifice.”

“What’s left?” asked Qrow, voice loud and echoing in the cell. “You have no army. You have no hunters. You don’t even have _me._ ” James twitched at that. “What’s left? Your body? Your mind? Your _soul_?” Qrow’s voice was a growl and it burned him with every word. “And what about when that’s not enough?”

He was staring at James and his bloodshot blue eyes.

He was staring at Raven as she turned away from him, from Patch, for the last time.

Salem divided people. Destroyed people. Burrowed paranoia between fingernails until they split apart like fractured splinters and hearts. Left behind nothing but anguished, terrified people who would stop at nothing to protect themselves and what they thought was important.

Bandits.

Cities.

But not people. Not love.

Love had no place in this war on either side.

“It will be enough,” said James. “It _has_ to be enough.”

Qrow fought the urge to lay his hands atop James’. He didn’t deserve it. Not after everything.

“It’s not,” said Qrow. “Salem’s gonna get both relics, drop Atlas, and take off into the night. We’re done. We’re all fucking finished,” said Qrow.

James blew out a breath through his nose. “Where’s the relic, Qrow?” James’ gaze was a shadow of what it once was. An echo of the intensity of the man he’d loved for so long, had been so afraid to pursue until his recent return to Atlas.

Love cut short as both of them were destroyed by a war neither had ever asked to be soldiers in.

“I don’t know,” said Qrow.

“Do you really think that sitting in a prison cell _lying_ to me is going to stop Salem?” asked James, almost growling.

Qrow smiled. Sad, crooked, bitter. “Maybe that’s the problem. You’re still thinking of this as winning and losing. We lost. We’re done. Maybe I’m sick of fighting a war we can’t win.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke, and, against his will, tears gathered in his eyes. “Maybe I just want it to be over.”

“You’re a coward,” said James, but his grip on Qrow’s shirt loosened and Qrow slid down the wall. James’ head drooped, gaze falling from Qrow’s.

“Cowardice is hiding from the truth,” said Qrow. “I think this is the bravest I’ve ever been. We lost. Deal with it.”

James snarled and slammed Qrow tighter to the wall. The breath fled Qrow’s lungs.

“We have _not_ lost. We have time. She might be here, but we have my army. We can still win. We can still—” He broke off with a broken noise and dropped Qrow. Qrow fell the few feet and landed hard on the bench. It jarred all the way to his teeth, and he bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

“Yeah? If that’s true, where’s your Winter Maiden?” asked Qrow, just because he knew that it would bother James. “What happened to Fria, James?”

“She’s dead,” spat James. “She’s dead and Winter couldn’t get the power. We don’t know where it’s gone.”

Qrow could guess. Qrow could make a _lot_ of guesses. There were, after all, five eligible girls (minus Ruby, because the legends said silver eyed warriors couldn’t possess that which they could destroy) who would have been near Fria at death. If one of them didn’t have it, then Cinder. If not Cinder, then it was gone.

But he’d bet one of the girls had it.

“If you’d told them the truth,” started Qrow.

James twitched. “After they didn’t trust me?” He let out a bitter laugh, sharp and short. “No. I don’t think so. I’m sick of giving everything to people without getting it back.”

Qrow swallowed. The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. “I always gave it back.”

Something of the old James appeared in his eyes. A tentative light that had Qrow holding his breath.

“You did,” agreed James. Qrow swallowed, ready to respond. The light died. The shutters dropped on James’ eyes. “Then you killed my captain.”

Qrow flinched. “Ja—"

“We could have been great, together,” said James, his tone soft. Qrow stopped, swallowing.

Qrow matched it. “We were,” he replied. But… “You just had to try and take on the world by yourself. Had to pretend you were alone.” Qrow drew his knees back up and draped his arms across them. “You got what you wanted, James. You’re all alone; left to hold up the world while you try to save it. How does it feel, to know you destroyed every relationship you had to get here?”

Something died in James’ eyes as Qrow spoke. As if the last bit of light in him was finally snuffed out.

“At least I’ll go down fighting,” said James, his chin high. “Goodbye, Qrow.” He swept out of the cell, slamming the door behind him.

Qrow didn’t respond, but once he was certain James was gone, he crawled over to the flat bed under the window and curled himself into a ball beneath the thin blanket. It’d all be over soon.

Raven had been right all along.

Men like him didn’t get happy endings.

He never should have tried.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Thanks for reading!


End file.
